


Espionage

by SocialDisease609



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDisease609/pseuds/SocialDisease609
Summary: Clarke is a Skaikru spy sent to steal the Trigeda war-plans. How she does it is a little bit unorthodox- infiltrating the Grounder war camp as a sex worker, and ends up getting the Commander as her client.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the topic of sex workers and prostitution offends people, especially how the area between choosing to be a sex worker and being "employed" as one against one's will (aka trafficking) can seem gray or non-existent to some. I was trying to find a way to distinguish the two in this fic, just like how there are people who choose to make a career out of porn and then there are people who are trafficked into porn. If I distinguished incorrectly, I have no problem with learning more and altering this fic :)

“So how are you going to do this?” Raven asked ask she focused on braiding strands of Clarke’s hair.

            “The Grounder military camps are often followed by groups of prostitutes- such is war. They typically go after the officers rather than the standard warrior. I am going to infiltrate the camp with them, and hopefully get an officer myself. After I’m done with my catch, I’ll look for war plans or just simply get information out of them.” Clarke replied, going over the plan in her mind.

            “Man, sleeping with the enemy for the cause,” Raven chuckled lightly, shaking her head in disbelief. “No one’s got loyalty like you, Griffin. I know I wouldn’t be able to do it. There, done.”

            Clarke inspected her braids in a mirror as Raven went back to her radio work.

            “Why a prostitute, Clarke?” the mechanic asked. “I mean, are they really gonna fall for that?”

            “Of course,” Clarke replied confidently, dressing up for the role. “It’s impossible to not get picked up by one of the officers.”

            “Well, either way, you’re disguising yourself as a prostitute, not a royal concubine, get rid of some of that jewelry, and tatter up that gown.” Raven walked up to Clarke and tore a few inches or two in the bottom hem and v-cut collar of her simple blue gown. The deep blue color of the fabric matched Clarke’s personal style, of course, yet it was pulled tight by her bodice and hips. It was plain enough to get across her fake economic status, yet simply seductive enough to raise questions to her modesty, especially at how short the dress was. If she sat down without caution there would definitely be some exposure.

            “I have a background story and everything,” Clarke began, a tone of excitement rising in her voice.

            “Of course you do,” Raven chuckled.

            “Just in case I get stalled by some questioning or small talk.”

            “So what’s your name, lady-of-the-night?” Raven teased.

            “ _That_ is actually something I don’t have. I’m posing as a prostitute, they don’t share their real names, I doubt they’ll actually ask. However, I have chosen to say that I am from the small village of Roshen, it’s twenty miles west of Polis. It was hit bad, economy-wise, ever since the start of the war three years ago. Most villages make money by sending goods to Polis to aid in the war. But closer villages make sales before Roshen does, leaving them basically selling for scraps. No one would question why someone from there would turn to street-walking.”

            “I guess so.” Raven got up from her desk cluttered with radios to walk over to her friend. “Please be careful, okay? I know you have a plan, but some people are just evil behind closed doors. You don’t know who you may end up with.”

            Hugging Raven warmly, Clarke replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one hurts me. When have I failed any mission?”

 

            Clarke had walked a few miles to walk in the dark forest before she found a heavily populated troupe of prostitutes, both male and female, commuting together. She had slipped into their huddle, amidst some frowns and raised eyebrows from the others, but no vocal objections. Soon, they encountered a Grounder military camp, and from group of warriors to group of warriors, the prostitutes began to break off with clients, and Clarke soon began to get nervous. After shaking off some hand-sy low-enlisted warriors every now and then, she began to feel that the officers were not out of their tents this night.

            But just when she felt like slipping out of the camp, the now significantly reduced troupe made their way to another circle of warriors sitting around a fire, and sure enough, lieutenants and captains completed the roster- along with Commander Lexa. The officers around the stoic commander howled and whistled excitedly as they watched the prostitutes approach them in all their subtle seductive glory. Clarke’s stomach began to twist with excitement. Her mission might become more than what she bargained for.

            “We have no coin to provide you,” Lexa said, speaking above the cries of disappointment from her fellow soldiers, her Trigedasleng proper and clear. Clarke made a mental note to remind herself to stick to the Grounders’ native tongue. While English was taught to warriors for foreign affairs, Clarke wanted her role to be believable, and speaking like a Grounder was a top priority to keeping her cover.  

            “Heda,” her warriors groaned collectively, some subtly nudging small purses of coin hanging off their belt. Lexa frowned, disappointed in her soldiers’ morals.

            “We’re here for you, for our warriors,” persuaded a male prostitute, smiling to all the warriors around the fire, hoping to catch a glimpse of any client that was more interested than the others. “A gift, discounted price, for our brave warriors. We are not ashamed or forced to be here.”

            Lexa shifted in her chair, letting the words of the prostitute echo in her head.

            “Heda, Heda,” her warriors grumbled again, pleading playfully. “It’s not bad, Heda.”

            “It is not bad?” Lexa asked, holding back her desire to scowl.

            “We’re here for you,” Clarke spoke up, repeating what the previous prostitute had said, her Trigedasleng just as crystal clear. She made a mental note to applaud herself later for perfecting the language. “We want to do what we can to show thanks for your highest bravery.”

            She caught Lexa’s eye, and the Commander surveyed her quickly.

            “You are not forced to do this?” Lexa asked.

            “We are not trafficked,” another prostitute assured, “We have chosen this profession on our own. It is our chosen job, we serve no one but ourselves, and you, dear Heda.”

            Lexa bit back a smile as she felt her warriors watch her eagerly. “Fine,” Lexa said lightly, smiling at the cheers from her warriors. The prostitutes began to break off to the soldiers who had their arms open for anyone to walk into them, but Clarke made her way to Lexa. The Commander for sure would have all the plans she needed to bring back to the Arkadian outposts.

            “What is it, then?” Lexa asked, a shadow of a blush on her cheeks. “Fifty pieces of coin, like the others?”

            Clarke walked softly on the grass behind the seated Commander and placed her hands on each side of Lexa’s shoulders, squeezing the muscles pleasurably. Leaning over, she whispered in the Commander’s ear, keeping her Trigedasleng in check: “Free for you, Heda.” Lexa flexed her fingers on the arms of her chair, yet remained silent. However, her officers cheered comments of lewd approval, ecstatic to see their leader partake.

            “I cannot allow that, let me give you something, this is your living.” Lexa said calmly, not turning her neck to face Clarke. Her massage must have been that enjoyable.

Removing her hands from Lexa’s shoulders, Clarke slid herself around to sit on the Commander’s lap. “We’ll think of a price later, then… depending on how much you like it.” She could hear Lexa inhale deeply. The Commander was flustered, but wasn’t shy enough to keep her from placing a hand on Clarke’s inner thigh, close to riding up her dress. Everyone who had grabbed a client had either dragged them away by now, or was sitting on a lap, like Clarke. As the Grounders continued their conversations, Clarke slid a hand behind Lexa’s neck and into her hair, soothing her with another gentle and quiet massage. As much as Clarke wanted things to progress as normal, she felt that things were stalling. Lexa was too hospitable to leave the fire before her officers, keeping them company as long as they wanted to be in her presence. Clarke understood in general: what warrior wouldn’t want to enjoy the presence of their hero, especially among wine and women? But Clarke had a mission to accomplish, and she wanted to leave with the plans in her mind or hand before the sun rose. To entice her target more, she placed soft kisses on Lexa’s temple, cheek, and jawline, her free hand resting on the hand that was caressing her thigh, subtly encouraging her to touch her higher up.

“Heda,” one of her warriors started, as he got up from his chair, his escort pulling his hand “Forgive me, Heda, but do not forget your manners.” Lexa raised an eyebrow at this, and he indicated towards Clarke. “Never keep a lady waiting.”

Lexa took the cue graciously and ushered Clarke off her lap and escorted her to her tent. As Lexa pushed open the flap, Clarke’s eyes immediately searched the area as quickly as she could, and at the far end of the spacious tent was a table full of scrolls and maps. That’s what she needed to see by the end of this escapade. But first, business needed to be handled, and she needed to get Lexa into bed and into a deep slumber. As she began to formulate her plan of action, she noticed that Lexa went straight to sitting in a chair after pouring herself another glass of wine.

“You’re just going to sit down? After sitting down for so long outside?” Clarke asked, still playing her role in expert Trigedasleng, but legitimately offended by Lexa’s seemingly lack of interest.  

“Where would you like me, then?” Lexa asked languidly, slowly circulating the wine in her cup.      

Clarke smirked, enjoying her role too much. “You need me to say it? You should know where I want you.”

Lexa cleared her throat, hesitating before taking a swig of her drink.

“Come on, Heda, don’t hurt my confidence.” Clarke teased, walking forward to the seated Commander. “Are you not interested in me?”

Lexa looked up from her cup, watching Clarke saunter over to her. “Do not underestimate my interest,” Lexa began. Clarke had always felt ambivalent about the Trigeda language, feeling it was harsh and mashed up one day, to exotic and guttural the next, but each time she heard Lexa speak it, she found herself developing an appreciation for it. “I just…” Lexa continued after a brief pause. “I do not do this. I do not know what to do. I have never… paid anyone…”

Clarke smiled at Lexa’s honest confession to being shy. “You don’t need to romance me or anything, Heda. It’s simple, you just do what you want.” In fact, to encourage the war hero, Clarke began to slowly pull up her dress as she walked closer, revealing more to her thighs than the length already revealed. She had made her way to Lexa at this point, and simply kept herself covered, as she straddled the seated woman.

A successful tease- Lexa’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her steady in her lap. Clarke went straight to unbuckling any piece of armor she could unlatch while they were seated, and soon Lexa was left in nothing but her thick traveling tunic. Lexa picked Clarke up, keeping the younger woman’s legs wrapped around her waist and placed her onto the bed that was covered in fur pelts. They both kicked off their own shoes without much hesitation or struggle, focusing most of their energy on breathlessly kissing each other. Lexa sat up for a brief moment to undo the clasps of her tunic, and Clarke followed example, getting on her knees to pull her dress off over her head. Not giving Lexa a proper chance to gaze upon her body, she put an arm behind Lexa’s neck and pulled her into another kiss, yet Lexa’s hands traveled up Clarke’s abdomen to touch her breasts for a brief couple of seconds.   

Clarke was surprised to find herself so immediately aroused by this woman, relieving her of any fear of pain, as Lexa’s kisses, grasping, and warm body weight created an excessive slickness between her legs. It wasn’t long before the two women were completely caught up in each other, enjoying various positions and roles. Catcalls were heard from outside the tent when one of them expressed their pleasure a bit too loudly for privacy’s liking. Clarke had to remind herself more than once that she was on the job, and to not get caught off guard, keeping her cries of ecstasy limited to the Trigeda vocabulary. Telling Lexa how she felt about this phenomenal experience in English would do absolutely no good.

However, she had to end this quick, but couldn’t even bring herself to fake a climax, as she felt a real one begin to surface inside her, Lexa’s tongue slowly and firmly massaging her clit and the lips of her sex. She could tell that all Lexa’s surprisingly robust energy was coming to an end because the Commander’s grip had loosened around Clarke’s thighs in comparison to how rigorously she had held her in place a couple of turns ago. In real euphoria, Clarke rolled her hips a bit more vigorously against Lexa’s mouth, bringing her orgasm closer and closer, like waves repeatedly inching up onto shore. Her hands sunk into Lexa’s intricate braids, and her voice cried out- her body trembling uncontrollably. She surrendered to the unwavering lashes of Lexa’s tongue, coming to a soothing state after her moments of piercing bliss.

The Commander moved Clarke’s limp legs off of her shoulders and sat up on the bed. Clarke could see the desire to sleep written on Lexa’s face, so she reached up, caressed the hard face of the young warrior and urged her, “Rest, Heda. We both need it. I shall stay in your bed tonight, if you wish. I know that a warrior’s soul yearns for a warm body to hold in the nights of war.”

Lexa let her body sink down even more into her bed, being seduced by the idea of sleep. “It is silly to ask for you to stay?”

“Absolutely not,” Clarke smiled, fitting herself in the Commander’s embrace. Lexa pulled some of the pelts over them, and blew out the candles closest to them, even though there were still many in the tent.

It seemed to not take long for Lexa to fall asleep, so Clarke deftly slipped out of the woman’s arms and began to put on her clothes. When she was fully dressed, she took a glimpse back at the bed and saw Lexa still sound asleep, bunching the pelts closer to her chest to make up for Clarke’s absence in her arms. It made Clarke feel a little guilty about stealing from the Commander, and a voice in her head suggested that she should just go back to bed after reviewing the documents on Lexa’s table and leave in the morning, as Lexa expected. But another voice went off in her head, the voice of her Skaikru responsibilities. It was like the devil had come and was whispering horrible things into her ear- for her people, kill the Commander now. It might end the war. She had not intended on finding the commander at all when she started this mission, and letting an opportunity like this slip by was a great betrayal to her people.

Clarke surveyed the map on Lexa’s table, quickly deciphering which totems resembled Grounder clans, and which ones resembled Skaikru. Lucky for Arkadia, the Grounders were unaware of the Skaikru forces to the north of Polis (a very confidential flanking mission), but at the same time, there were a lot more Grounder camps than Skaikru intel was aware of. She had been reviewing the map for at least twenty minutes when she heard:

“Please tell me you’re not looking to steal,” came a voice that sent Clarke’s heart clogging her throat. She turned around, seeing Lexa dressing from the foot of her bed.

“No, I… I,” Clarke needed to think of an alibi fast.

“We were supposed to discuss your pay when we were finished. I should have paid you before I gave into resting,” Lexa admitted. “What’s your price?”

Clarke wasn’t sure if Lexa was choosing to ignore the fact that a supposed prostitute was looking over war plans, or if she was simply still waking up from her incredibly brief nap, so Clarke began to subtly remove herself from the plans. “Well… what did you think?”

Lexa flexed her jaw a bit before answering, “It was a highly pleasurable experience. I have been satisfied. If fifty pieces is your discounted price, what is your full price for service?”

Clarke took a wild guess, “A hundred.”

Lexa nodded as she pondered the answer, and walked to a chest by her bed. Opening it, she pulled out a small leather pouch which jingled as she lifted it. “Here you go,” the Commander said, walking over to Clarke to hand her the bag. “There should be a hundred-fifty pieces.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. Not that she was going to really do anything with this money, except to use it for more covert Skaikru operations, but she really did not expect the Commander to be this generous, especially if it was her first experience with someone of her faux profession.

“Why were you looking at the map?” Lexa asked all of a sudden, her stone personality still present.

“I couldn’t resist,” said Clarke, spinning stories in her head, “Where I come from, we don’t have war heroes. We don’t even have a decent militia. Usually I cater towards tradesmen, but this was my first time working in a military camp. Seeing the map just… fulfilled a small fantasy, that’s all. I thought that maybe seeing the map would make me feel like I was one of you. Even if just for a few seconds of my life.”

“Where are you from?” Lexa asked, pouring two glasses of water.

“Roshen.” Clarke replied on reflex.

Handing Clarke a glass, Lexa said, “Roshen. I’m sorry the war has been hard on your home. I have seen the economy reports. Explains…” Lexa caught herself, trying to avoid being rude in her bluntness.

“Explains why I sell myself?” Clarke filled in the blanks. “It’s okay, you can say it. That’s the truth, after all.”

“Do you plan on going back home after this?” Lexa asked over her cup, pausing to speak before taking a deep drink.

“Not really, I’m just going to find another place to work in the morning.” Clarke said, thinking of the best plausible response for her role.

“I meant after the war,” Lexa clarified.

“Oh,” Clarke said, her spirits a little dimmed. “I’m not sure. I would like to go back home to see everyone, but I do not believe people are meant to stay in one place anyway. War or not, bad economy or not, I think I would have wanted to leave home. I think it’s built in us to find a new one.”

            The tent was silent for a while as Lexa drank her water. Clarke could tell the Commander was thinking about something, her brows were too furrowed and her gaze elsewhere to not have been.

            “Would you have done something else with your life besides selling yourself if the war never happened?” Lexa finally asked.

            “I would think so,” Clarke said, “since that never really happened, I never actually thought of it. But I’m sure I would have picked a different profession.”

            “If you had to pick one right now, though…”

            Clarke raised her eyebrow, wondering where the Commander was going with this.

            “An artist,” Clarke answered truthfully, breaking character, yet sticking strictly to Trigedasleng this whole time, as did Lexa. She hadn’t spoken a word of English in hours. “If this war didn’t exist, and I could just be whatever I wanted, I would be an artist.”

            Lexa walked up to Clarke and placed a hand on her shoulder in friendly comfort. “I don’t want to see you in this camp again,” she said, startling Clarke. “I am going to give you more coin to take with you. Please, travel to Polis and leave this trade. If I see you selling yourself again…”

 

            As Clarke traveled back through the woods to her Skaikru camp, she jingled with the two leather bags Lexa had given her. She was traveling with 3,150 on her. If Clarke’s understanding of the Grounder economy was correct, this would give her housing for at least six months in a rent-controlled area. The Grounder Commander had confused her. Lexa was obviously bothered by the sex business in her communities, but not enough to ban it as a whole. Trafficking was something she wouldn’t tolerate, which made Clarke admire her, but she could tell that the young leader didn’t know how to feel about adults selling their bodies out of their own independent consent. But after getting to know Clarke… well, her fake persona, the Commander used her authority to rid Clarke’s character from the business altogether. Clarke humored the possibility that maybe the Commander just fancied her.

            When she made it back to camp, she was debriefed, where she relayed all the war information she had gathered on the enemy, yet retained the truth of having served Commander Lexa. She said it was just a simple officer.

            However, when she made it back to Raven’s Radio Communications quarters, she couldn’t keep the look off her face.

            “What did you do?” Raven asked, knowing that Clarke wasn’t painfully hiding a smile for no reason. Clarke waited for them to be completely alone before she whispered:

            “Can you keep a secret?”

**Author's Note:**

> This might end up being some kind of mini chronicles series, but right now, here is just one adventure of Clarke, the Skaikru spy lol.


End file.
